The Tales Untold

All but one of the tavern's rooms had been reserved by the Rauvin Rovers, the last having been claimed by the bard some nights before. It made the Baron of Mutton slightly less diverse, with only some of the townsfolk or miners coming in later in the evening. While there were still plenty of folk to sing for, there were some less to sing about.

While they'd mostly been a private bunch that kept to themselves, she'd picked up what she could about each member of the company. She was a fairly visible presence on the main floor, occasionally talking with the locals when she wasn't playing. Other times, she sat with her instrument, lightly plucking at the strings. Whenever any member of the Rauvin Rovers would enter, however, notes would start to form - varying per individual, and something wholly different if they were in a group. In those moments, she'd speak quietly to herself, only stopping if a patron approached her.

Thin fingers had started strumming the moment the large captain had entered the bar; the half-elf did not stop playing until he took a seat at her table. His company was unexpected and a bit of a surprise to Rhianna, though she masked it with a friendly smile. As a show of giving the man her attention, she let the instrument rest in her lap.

"Normally the one people ask me about is the 'Women of Boo Bah Ben'..." She chuckled softly, but the musical sound was cut short when she realized there was little humor to the question. She cleared her throat softly, lifting a glass of clear liquid to wet her throat.

"Actually, it is a song I learned from a fellow minstrel, named Mintiper. We shared a few, some years back. Honestly, it came to mind when I saw you walking in here with the weapon on your back. I hadn't sung it in a while... if you're not overly fond of it, I'm sure I could work a different one in."

The captain's long stare made her shift in her seat slightly. Still, she met the gaze unflinchingly, her demeanor still welcoming. Her expression remained unchanged until he mentioned the other bard's name, a smile returning to her lips with relative ease. "It's been a while since I last ran into Minti... do you know him? He's quite the traveler..." Her voice trailed off as she watched him toy with his food.

"Speaking of knowing someone, we haven't been properly introduced. I'm Rhianna. You're Salem, right?"

Rhianna was glad the man's somewhat somber mood had passed - at least for the moment. She laughed at his reaction to the nickname, and gave a nod of agreement at the description of her fellow musician. "I bet he was a handful, whether as his brother in arms or his Captain..." Something occurred to her, and the bard sat up a bit straighter. Her light eyes narrowed slightly, her fingers giving a light strum over the strings of her instrument. "Captain," she said again, as if confirming it.

With his remark he pulled her from whatever reverie, and a sly grin spread over her lips. "Hang around here a little longer, and you might just find out."

Rhianna nodded in affirmation, that it was certainly so. She leaned forward over the table towards the man, her voice lowering into a conspiratorial whisper. "Good... else I'd be a poor bard, indeed." The half-elf laughed, settling back into her chair. "I'll look for you when I play later, then. In the meantime, though... what's your story, Captain? What have these Rauvin Rovers been up to?"

She lifted the instrument from her lap, breaking her gaze on the big man as she admired the honeyed wood. Her fingers traced over the contours appreciatively, and moved to pluck lightly at the strings as her eyes drifted back up to the fighter.

Rhianna was patient, idly toying with snippets of melody while the man ate and considered her question. When he was finally ready to speak, she listened attentively as he listed off some of the deeds of the company. She looked suitably impressed.

"For such a young band, you've done much together already. I've not heard of any lycanthropes in this area for some time. And oddly acting wolves? At some point, one of the Rauvin Rovers will have to share more of these stories, and I'll help them carry on when I do."

Her nose scrunched as the man lit the pipe, though more out of curiosity for the type of leaf than anything else. The bard's head tilted back, watching the smoke drift and swirl lazily up towards the ceiling, the scent mingling with the others of the bar pleasantly. At his question she brought her eyes back to the man. Half of a smile pulled at her lips, and her fingers stopped their motions across the strings.

"Before I started doing this? My story is rather dull. Once I picked up an instrument, though, and dedicated myself to this life... it has taken me all over the Realms, and let me meet those from all walks of life. I've known heroes, met villains, and all the good folk between that are affected by their passing. So...such a broad question is a bit difficult to answer - especially if you're out the door once that bowl is done. Narrow it down for me, ask me something you want to know... and I'll share. But...only if you do the same. Fair?"

"To be fair, I didn't know you were actually one of the Axe-men in truth until you told me. But that doesn't count towards this, so don't even try it..." She playfully pointed a finger at him, and a mock scowl colored her features before a smile returned. She took a deep breath before answering him, however, her hand reaching for her own cup, lifting it to her lips to finish off the contents. The man would be able to faintly smell a blend of fruit and honey.

Setting it down lightly on the table, the bard looked back to Salem. "I stopped in here for a bit before I continue west. It's one of the last towns on the road out of Haranshire. I'm heading for a place -some big waypoint for adventurers - where I hear my father stayed, a couple months or so back. All things considered, I'm kind of taking my time getting there, to figure out what I want to do... " Clearing her throat, she went to reach for her cup again; her lips pursed when she remembered it was empty.

A hand rose, waving over a barmaid. Once the woman arrived, she politely asked for another drink. When they were alone, Rhianna smiled over to the fighter.  "So, I don't mind that your band gives me reason to stay a bit longer."

The storyteller stared at the man across the table thoughtfully, wondering how much she was willing to share. The silence was broken by the arrival of her drink, and she turned her head to smile in thanks to the woman. Taking a sip to wet her throat and lips, she glanced back at Salem and visibly made the decision to continue.

"Well, there's quite a bit to think about, considering my father has been dead for twenty years. But, lo' and behold, whilst I was finishing up a stint in Silverymoon, I received a letter from the wielder of Shu'kahl herself, telling me that my dad had been staying at her establishment the last few nights. Tyra hadn't been in when he arrived, and when she saw him the next night, the woman was convinced that she was seeing things - a trick of the shadows, maybe. By the third day, she says she knew, even though this guy didn't show any recognition when he saw her."

Her hands left her instrument completely, letting it balance across her legs while both of her hands encircled the cup. "He didn't come back the next day, though. It's been over a month. I'm working my way there, to help figure things out... I'm just not in any hurry. I wrote the parting song for my father years ago, and a piece of me is unwilling to revise that tune." Now that the words were spoken, there was no taking them back. Some of the reality seemed to settle on the bard's shoulders, and she stared down into her cup until she brought her expression under control. Lifting her head with a tight smile, she looked back to Salem.

"Where did you go after you and Minti parted ways?"

She hadn't expected for her question to have that sort of impact on Salem; her eyes widened slightly, wondering if she'd crossed some unspoken boundary. He recovered well, however, and the concern that had her leaning towards him dissipated enough to let her settle back in her seat. She listened attentively, but Rhianna knew when things were left unsaid - and the warrior has skipped volumes. A hand dropped to her lap, to let her thumb strum over the strings, her head canting to one side. After hearing that small prologue, the bard decided she was in for the whole game - however long it may be.

There were questions she wanted to ask, but the man interjected with one of his own. She nodded at first in response, before opening her mouth to reply. "The Roaring Dragon, yes. It's quite the place Tyra has out there, and a lot of adventurers have rested their heads beneath her roof. See, I take it you've been there or that you've heard of it. The place is pretty popular amongst our ilk... so hopefully whenever I make it, there'll be someone there - or not so far down the road - that they can give me some answers."

Rhianna took another drink from her cup, and managed a smile. "You know, I almost asked you about you being at the Roaring Dragon. But that would've taken my turn. And I would've had to have waited another round to ask you this: what did you do after the battle?"

Rhianna met his gaze unflinchingly in that long stretch of silence. Not as a challenge to the large man, but to show that she was ready for the next turn of story; he'd led her this far, and she would see it through. Salem's body language certainly suggested that he was going to impart something not often told, and a part of her was tempted to suggest they take it to a place where the din of noise in the background wouldn't endanger any detail being missed. Still, she thought it wiser to stay, to not let there be time to think twice upon the nature of this 'game' they'd been playing at.

As he began to tell his tale, the minstrel became quickly immersed. Making short work of the orcs they'd come across, only to find a more deadly foe waiting for them in the night... short, black-skinned, using bolts...crossbows... Rhianna's mind worked quickly enough; the similarities to the ancient enemies of her mother's people were too great to disregard. One word escaped her - "Drow..." She looked to the fighter for confirmation, noting that he was staring into the crackling flames. She frowned as realization dawned on her - this haunted the man, regardless of how much time had passed. The description that he'd given... it wasn't some fondness of detail that brought those words to mind. It was because he could still close his eyes and relive it - just like he was now.

A part of her wanted to urge him forward, to help him purge this inner demon while fulfilling her own need to know. Yet she had this suspicion that the tale didn't end, and that the good Captain was heading towards more painful recollections. Her hand reached out, lightly resting her fingers on his forearm in order to get his attention. "Your turn to ask a question." The words, softly spoken, were also an offer - a way to turn the conversation away from this dark turn of memory.

Rhianna pulled her hand back as the cup splintered and broke, the remnants of the brew within spilling over the table. Surprise had flushed her cheeks, and she quietly watched as the man tried to clean up the mess. She stood as he did, her instrument clutched in one hand. While he had been the one to say the words, the expression on the bard's face was profoundly apologetic.

"No, you've done nothing wrong. Next time, happier trails and lighter tales." The smile she gave held no mirth, and only served to somehow deepen the sorrow etched into her features. Before he turned to walk away, she stepped in front of him, tilting her head upwards to see the tall man's face. "I'm sorry, Captain Blackthorne."

With that, she turned, walking across the bar, and out the front door.